Page 24 of Falling for Her Highland Steward
“Benny, Benny, Benny,” Caillen said soothingly as he advanced through the gate of the pen inside the barn.
“No! Caillen!” Erin cried, then closed her mouth as the farmer took her arm and shook it.
“Milady, gie him a chance,” he begged. “This stallion is usually a gentleman, an’ my farm couldnae work right without him. Somethin’ has happened tae make him act like this.”
Erin looked into the farmer’s pleading blue eyes and tried to force down her panic and fear as she watched Caillen slowly advancing on the animal. When he was just out of range of Benny’s plunging hooves, he stopped and stood completely still. He stayed on the same spot for what seemed like hours while the stallion continued to rear and dance on its hind legs. However, eventually, exhaustion set in, and Benny gradually slowed to a standstill, but he stood on three feet, barely touching the floor with his right foreleg.
Caillen moved in, speaking in low, soothing tones until he was within a foot of the horse’s nose. He reached out a hand to scratch him between his ears, and Benny tossed his head but showed no signs of aggression.
After another agonizing few minutes, Caillen went down on his knees beside the horse’s foot, stroking his leg gently. He did not touch him but looked at his sole, then slowly stood up and stroked Benny’s neck. “There is a stone embedded in his foot,” he told the onlookers. “It must be agonizing for him. We need to get it out without panicking him again.”
Erin watched as he organized the men into a team to hold the horse down while he removed the stone, then he instructed Duncan to call the healer to administer a poultice.
When he came out of the pen, Erin, who had been too terrified to watch the last part, felt a rush of relief that almost overwhelmed her. “You are mad!” she said tearfully. “I thought that horse would kill you.” She thumped his shoulder, but he only laughed.
Just then, Duncan came up to him, beaming. “Thank ye, sir, milady. I am that grateful tae ye!”
Caillen smiled and patted Duncan’s shoulder. “Ye are welcome. Always. If ye need anything else, ye know where I am.”
Just then, Erin looked up toward the road they had just used and saw a carriage being pulled by four magnificent matching gray horses, accompanied by six guards in a livery Erin did not recognize.
“They are going to the castle,” Caillen observed, frowning. “Are you expecting anyone, Erin?”
“No, I am not,” she replied, through gritted teeth. “I hope this person is not expecting a bed for the night! I am really not in the mood for entertaining.”
After saying goodbye to Duncan and his friends, they cantered back the way they had come, trying their best to stay out of sight of the carriage in front of them. After all, Erin had no idea who these people were, and if they were old enemies of Nairn, she wanted nothing to do with them.
The carriage passed into the castle, and the guards stood aside to let Erin through, but she paused to speak to one of them.
“Who has just come in?” she asked, frowning. “I could not see his crest.”
“Laird Grieve, milady,” the man replied. “He said you were expectin’ him.”
“I was not expecting anyone!” Erin snapped. “In the future, please do not let anyone in—laird or not—without my express permission. Not even the king himself.”
11
Laird Logan Grieve was an imposing man, almost as tall as Caillen but not quite so well built. He had a thatch of bright red hair and dark gray eyes that seemed to be looking right through Erin as she curtsied to him. She moved forward to greet him but kept a safe distance between them.
“Milady,” he said pleasantly in his melodic tenor voice. He smiled at her as he bowed. “Forgive me for dropping in unannounced, but I was on my way back from seeing a dear friend in the Border country, and I could not forgo the chance to come and give you my condolences on the loss of your husband.”
Erin knew this was a lie. The road south was nowhere near her estate; in fact, the laird would have had to travel far out of his way to reach her. He was a very bad liar. However, she pinned on a smile and said: “Thank you, M’Laird. I miss him very much.” She was astounded by his hypocrisy. He had not even bothered to come to Nairn’s funeral, despite the fact that they were near neighbors.
The laird looked at her deep lilac dress and frowned. “Surely it is a little early for half-mourning colors?” he suggested. “I waited for six months before I wore anything but black.”
Erin bristled. “How I mourn for my husband is no business of yours, Laird Grieve,” she told him angrily. “If I want to mourn for six months or six years, it is no concern of yours! Nairn told me that he wanted me to move on with my life, which I am doing to the best of my ability. Now, I have been out seeing my tenants, and I must wash. Is there anything else I can do for you?” She glared at him from under her brows.
“Forgive me, milady,” Laird Grieve said sorrowfully. “I should not have shown you such disrespect. I am sorry.” He bowed again.
“Thank you.” Erin looked around for an escape route and caught sight of Caillen. She beckoned him over to stand beside her. “M’Laird, this is my new steward, Caillen Johnstone. We have been working together since just after Nairn died, and he has made a very big difference to the estate already. My husband was not well enough to manage it properly towards the end of his life, and it needed the capable hand of someone who could rescue it. I did not have the experience to handle the task, so I brought in someone who could. Caillen, this is Laird Logan Grieve.”
The two men bowed and shook hands, although there was an almost palpable air of antagonism between them.
“A pleasure M’Laird,” Caillen said with a faint smile, although his voice was grim.
“It is good to finally meet you,” Laird Grieve said with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Your reputation precedes you. It seems that you have a rather unorthodox way of recovering debts.”
“Really?” Caillen raised an inquiring eyebrow. “I have many methods of collecting what is owed, but I merely do whatever has to be done in whatever way seems best at the time.” His deep voice held a hint of menace. He stared at the laird, who stared back, but it was Logan Grieve who dropped his gaze first, and Caillen felt an unholy thrill of satisfaction run through him.
